


Fate That Brought You

by ShilohM



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Coming Out, Google Translate Italian, Other, Smoking, Tenderness, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26297059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShilohM/pseuds/ShilohM
Summary: You've just been kicked out of your parents' house because you came out to them, and you head to the only place you'd ever found a friendly face - your favorite grungy bar. The man you meet there offers a second chance.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Fate That Brought You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time in a very, very long time that I've actually posted any of my writing. Mostly because it's the first time I've actually written something without abandoning the idea right away. Please be kind, but I do welcome constructive criticism!

_What the fuck am I supposed to do now?_ The brisk October wind caused you to shiver as you lit your cigarette with trembling hands. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body and leaned against the brick wall behind you. Heavy bass rhythms reverberated through the wall and up your spine, mercifully overpowering the dull ache in your chest.

One argument with your parents, and you had lost everything. Your home in, your job at your dad’s firm, and everything you owned – all of it now locked away behind the front door that they had slammed in your face. You knew they wouldn’t react well to your coming out, but you hadn’t been prepared for that extreme of a reaction. Crying and hurt, you had run to the alley behind the grungy goth bar you spent most of your weekend nights at.

You took another drag from your cigarette, desperately trying to regain your composure before you went inside. It didn’t help, and a fresh wave of tears started falling down your face. It was then that you heard the venue’s back door open and saw a strange figure emerge into the alley. You crouched behind a dumpster to avoid being seen – you were in no mood for conversation – and took a closer look.

The man was dressed in an ornate black silk suit with a white vest. The suit had some sort of symbol embroidered on the left breast, but you couldn’t make it out in the dim light of the streetlamps. As your graze traveled upward, you saw that his face was painted to resemble a skull. You didn’t remember hearing anything about a Halloween party at the venue tonight, but you usually weren’t there this early in the week. It was entirely possible one of the bartenders told you about it and you disregarded it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to go.

You continued to watch the man as he lit a cigarette of his own. He took a deep drag and turned his face upward as he exhaled, closing his eyes. His entire demeanor conveyed a grace and elegance that sent another shiver through your body. You knew you had never seen him at the bar before – there’s no way you would have forgotten someone like that. Suddenly, the back door opened again and someone wearing a horned silver mask peeked out.

“We’re on in 5,” the masked figure said to the man.

“ _Si, vengo_. Just a minute,” the man replied, extinguishing his cigarette against the brick wall. The masked figure disappeared back into the bar and the man began to follow, but hesitated.

“I think you’ll find what you need inside,” he said, turning slightly towards your hiding spot. You caught the hint of a soft smile on his face before he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Half-convinced it had all been a hallucination, you quickly finished your cigarette and picked up the backpack you’d managed to fill during the explosive argument. You made your way around to the front door of the bar, nodding and forcing a smile when the bouncer greeted you. Pushing through the crowd, you settled into your usual spot at the bar. One of your closest friends was bartending tonight, and he started to make your usual as soon as he saw you.

“You never make it on Tuesdays.” He smiled as he set the drink in front of you, but his smile faded when he saw your backpack and red eyes. “Shit, what happened?”

“I told my parents,” you said, taking a large sip of your drink. “I came out to them, and they kicked me out. My dad fired me. I’m fucked, man.”

“I’m so sorry.” Your friend’s face fell. “You okay?”

You took a deep breath – and another drink.

“Maybe? Hey, maybe you know something. I saw this guy out-“ Before you could finish your sentence, the lights began to dim. Your friend excitedly slapped the counted in front of you.

“You’re gonna love this,” he said, turning towards the venue’s stage. “Have another drink, hang out, and we’ll figure something out, okay?”

As he mixed you another drink and returned to his other customers, you focused your attention on the stage. To your surprise, there stood the man from the alley, as well as a group of instrumentalists all wearing the same horned silver masks. You managed to get a better look at the man, noticing that the symbol on his jacket was a large inverted cross. They immediately launched into a song that went so hard it made your body vibrate.

Your previous interest in musical theatre had taught you to appreciate good music and good voices, and this band immediately piqued your interest. You wondered how you had never heard of them before. But even more stunning than their technical skill was their lyrics – every line struck you right in the heart, expressing all the emotions you had felt after the fight with your parents. You began to tear up again, all the rage and hurt and hopelessness and frustration you felt bubbling to the surface.

Grabbing your drink, you elbowed your way through the crowd to the front of the pit, desperately clinging on to every word the man sang. You stood frozen as you looked up at him, and you remembered what he had said in the alley. _I think you’ll find what you need inside_.

After an instrumental piece, the man began a song much softer than the previous ones. As he sang, he kneeled down at the front of the stage, right in front of where you stood, and reached out towards you with a white-gloved hand. You placed your hand in his, and he held it gently, as if he were afraid of breaking you.

“I know your soul is not tainted, even though you’ve been told so,” he sang. You looked into his eyes – one green, one pale white – and gasped softly as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand. After several moments, he gently released you and stood up, continuing the song.

The feeling of awe slowly faded, replaced by the first bit of warmth you’d felt all day. You started to wonder if it was fate that had brought you to the venue that night.

You thoroughly enjoyed yourself for the rest of the band’s set. You returned to the bar several times to refill your drink, and your friend brightened when he saw that you were now smiling. The two of you chatted between songs, but you didn’t mention your encounter with the singer. You knew you’d be relentlessly teased if you did, and you were already too flustered to deal with that.

As the band finished their performance to a thunderous round of applause, you quickly paid your tab – wincing as you remembered you were now unemployed – and exited the building. You hurried back to the alley, where the mysterious man was already lighting another cigarette.

“I had a feeling you’d come to me here,” he said, smiling once again. You had so many questions swirling through your mind, but when you opened your mouth, nothing came out. The man chuckled softly and beckoned you closer.

“You’ve had a rough day, hm? Come, tell Papa what’s wrong.”

“Papa? Are you some sort of priest?” you asked warily. You still weren’t sure who this man was or what was going on, but the softness of his mismatched eyes pulled you closer.

“Something like that. But right now, I’m just someone who will listen.”

You sat on the steps next to the venue’s back door, your skin looking eerily yellow under the streetlights. You pulled your own cigarettes out of your backpack, and your story came spilling out unbidden. Everything from the long-standing tension between you and your parents to the argument that caused you to lose everything. By the time you had finished, you were crying again. You roughly wiped the sleeve of your jacket across your face, slightly embarrassed to have become so emotional in front of this man you didn’t even really know.

“That’s horrible, _tesoro_.” The concern in his voice and his eyes was genuine as he knelt down next to you. “Your own family forsaking you, simply because you dare to be yourself.”

Suddenly, the door to the venue opened and one of the masked performers stepped out.

“We have a problem, Papa,” he said, his voice strained. It was then that he noticed you sitting there. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The man called Papa stood up, letting his hand brush against your shoulder as he did so.

“What is it, Omega?” he asked, the performer’s anxious demeanor seeming to affect him.

“It’s Val. He, um… he walked out. Said something about needing to ‘find himself’.”

“ _Cazzo_ , we can’t do the tour with only one tech,” Papa sighed, frustrated, as he ran his gloved hand through his slick, black hair. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to look at you. “Have you by chance ever worked with a stage crew?”

“I- I was in theatre in high school,” you stammered. “I did tech.”

Papa looked as if you had just told him the secret to life itself.

“You said you have nowhere to go. Come tour with us.” He extended his hand to you, just as he did during the performance, and his words once again echoed through your mind.

 _I think you’ll find what you need inside_.

You took his hand without hesitation.


End file.
